


A Hopeless Future

by runningoutofminutes



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Canon Era, Frottage, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, SO MUCH SADNESS, Sadness, Uhm, barely even there nsfw tbh, everyone's sad that's why it's called les miserables, grantaire is sad, i think, i think that's all, it's from Javert's POV, so is Enjolras, so is javert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:37:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningoutofminutes/pseuds/runningoutofminutes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire find comfort in each other at the barricade and Javert 'accidentally' watches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hopeless Future

**Author's Note:**

> Endless amounts of thanks to shellybees on tumblr for beta-ing this just after I first wrote it (at 1:15am because reasons), and to therisingsatan for helping me scream about trying to think of a title (and then thinking of one for me).

The humiliation! To have been caught out by the young boy, tied like a badly behaved dog by a ragtag group of  _students_.

It goes against the grain. The shame was niggling inside Javert, rubbing him raw just as the rope around his neck. He can do nothing but sit in silence and wait for the leader - Enjolras, he has heard one boy call him - to take mercy on him, put him out of his misery.

He sees everything that happens, but cannot do anything. The thought occurs to him, when he hears yet another muttered dissent at Enjolras' refusal to kill him, that perhaps the blond does not wish for anyone to be hurt. He is young and idealistic. Javert knows that he wants the city to stand up with them, but that will never happen. Death is almost a certainty for these students.

His thoughts drift as he waits for he knows not how long. They travel through his time as a guard in Toulon, the move to M. sur M.; meeting Monsieur Madeleine, Monsieur le Maire, Jean the Jack-screw, Prisoner 24601, the  _convict_. His head spins with so many names until he manages to settle on one. Jean Valjean. Those two words make him grit his teeth and shift against his bindings, knowing that Valjean is walking free while he is bound in this café.

His reverie is  _finally_  broken, and Javert welcomes the interruption as the café door creaks open and a dark haired student stumbles inside, closely followed by another, too closely for Javert's comfort. He feigns sleep, slumping back against the platform to which he is bound, and the taller student casts him an anxious glance. The flickering light from a solitary lamp through the broken window illuminates high cheekbones and mussed golden curls. The other student closes the doors behind them and Enjolras - for it is obviously Enjolras - chews on his lower lip.

"The prisoner—" he murmurs quietly, and the dark haired student looks over as well.

"Is sleeping, Apollo. Please. Just tonight. In case."

Enjolras nods slowly, starting towards the other, and stops when Javert shifts. "Grantaire—" The start of his protest is stopped as the brunette leans up and kisses him.

Javert manages to stop his involuntary surprised jolt. Of course, he has seen things like this before, but never as soft and tender as the scene in front of him. The convicts in Toulon, worn down by hard labour and harsh punishments, had no cause to be gentle and sweet with one another. He had heard the evidence of this, stifled groans and thumps from cells.

When Grantaire pulls away again, his leader is flushed and dazed. "He will not wake, Enjolras," he whispers even as the blond walks backwards until his back hits the wall. Grantaire follows blindly, his eyes occupied only by Enjolras. Javert remembers, when he first came to the barricade, seeing him slumped in a corner with a bottle in his hands and pining in every line of his body, leaning very slightly forward towards Enjolras as his leader had spoken to the group. This is the boy who had been longing for his Apollo since he first saw him. It is obvious, even to the Inspector, that he has no interest in the 'cause'. Enjolras seems to know that too, but the soft sounds of lips connecting again and again and of breath mingling hotly every time they part, serve to show how little he cares. **  
**

The sounds of stolen kisses quiet for a moment. When Javert opens one eye tentatively, Grantaire is fumbling with Enjolras' trousers as the blond latches onto the line of his neck, bared just enough for his mouth by tugging the loose neckline past one shoulder. The softness of each touch has not been lost, though. Enjolras breaks away again to lay hungry kisses along Grantaire's jaw, with a sharp inhale as the brunette's hand disappears inside his trousers. "Gran _taire—_ " **  
**

It's when he lets out a stifled moan against Grantaire's shoulder that Javert knows he should close his eyes again. But Grantaire is facing away from him, his own trousers open by now so that he can rut against his leader, and Enjolras is clearly too far gone to even notice Javert. At this point the sounds fall freely from both of their mouths, barely muffled by the skin underneath them. Grantaire whispers that he loves Enjolras with all his heart, that he would follow him to death, and Enjolras whines, actually whines in response. The Inspector's lip curls and he catches himself just before he lets out a snort.

The two bodies move together for a while longer, words disintegrating into mewls and quiet moans until Enjolras spills with a gasp of ' _Grantaire_!' His partner stills a few moments afterwards, shuddering and dropping his head against Enjolras' shoulder. The blond pats shaky fingers through his hair, shushing what Javert realises belatedly are soft sobs escaping Grantaire. His throat tightens despite himself and he finds himself straining to catch mumbled pleas, broken with hitching breaths. "Don't die, don't leave me alone, my Apollo. I couldn't—"

Another shush and Enjolras tilts Grantaire's chin up to kiss him, swallowing a fresh wave of sobs at the gentle touch. "I'm scared, Enjolras," Grantaire confesses. Javert tries to stop himself from listening. The words seem to him to be more intimate than the act that had preceded them, and his cheeks burn with shame at himself as he debates covering his ears with his hands.

Grantaire's whimpers gradually fade as Enjolras continues to soothe him, tears streaking his own cheeks as Javert risks another look up at the two. The blond shifts enough to tear a strip from his shirt and wipe the two of them clean. Grantaire trembles visibly, tucking himself back into his trousers and scrubbing his cheeks. Enjolras slips the rag into the pocket of his red coat, rights his own clothing, and tugs Grantaire into a tight hug. For a moment, all is quiet. Then Enjolras' eyes fly open and meet Javert's curious ones. He barely flinches, though Javert starts backwards, and only narrows his eyes fractionally. Grantaire's face is pressed into his shoulder; Enjolras' hand in his hair comes up for a moment to press a finger to his lips, signalling Javert to be silent, and then mimes firing a gun between his eyes. Javert nods and Enjolras lets his eyes flicker closed again as he clings to Grantaire.

Later, when Javert sees the two of them asleep curled around one another, tucked away in a shadowy corner of the barricade, he allows a few tears to fall for them, and for a future they have no hope of seeing. Not together.

**Author's Note:**

> Aggghghhhghghfghfghfgh, so this is my first fic for this pairing and in canon era. I'll just  
> batten down the hatches  
> await the mob.  
> just remember that ilu


End file.
